Truth
by Arien45
Summary: Liz's thoughts during the final moments of Season 1's penultimate episode. Chapter 2 is Ressler's reaction to his partner at his door.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: This is the first part of a two-shot that takes place right at the end of the penultimate episode of Season 1. We didn't really get to see Liz's thought process, so this is my version of what's going on in her head.**

 **Author's Note: This is old, I know, and a lot of things have changed on the show since then, but here it is anyway. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I neither own nor am I affiliated with anything related to _The Blacklist_ and I am not making a profit from this story. **

...

She was done with the lies. Done with Tom, whoever he was, done with the way he had spoon-fed her, done with his sweetness and his understanding, done with the idyllic illusion he had painted for her. She shook her head as she thought of the wasted years, all that time mooning over him and worrying that she would ruin it all with her demanding job. Her stomach churned when she remembered the most recent horrors – of living with a man she knew had betrayed her, of smiling when he touched her, of responding to his kisses because she couldn't yet show her cards. Reddington's orders.

She was done with Reddington, too. Murderer. She'd always known that, of course. She shouldn't have been surprised. But he'd said he would protect her, had professed he could live with himself because he protected her all those months ago after the Stewmaker. But he'd killed her father. She swallowed the burning bile that rose in her throat. Reddington had smothered her dad over a piece of information. How could information be worth a human life? Maybe Reddington didn't understand. Maybe he thought that because Sam hadn't been her biological father, it wouldn't hurt as much, but it did because Sam had chosen her even though he didn't have to, had raised her, had loved her. Reddington's sick attempts at bonding with her couldn't hope to compare to even a shadow of Sam's love for her.

She left her destroyed brownstone and got in the car. She didn't have any destination in mind, but she couldn't stand in the wreckage for a moment more, not tonight. She'd been driving for twenty minutes before she realized she was three quarters of the way to Ressler's building.

Ressler. He'd never lied to her, as far as she knew. He never hesitated to tell her when she screwed up, and then he helped her fix it. When he gave her the tiniest compliment, he meant it. He'd stayed with her in their office late at nights, whether to share the misery of searching for leads in files or to listen to her personal problems with Tom and Reddington, even though she only told half-truths. He always had her back in the field; had saved her from certain death more than once and had never asked for thanks or praise because he was her partner and that was his job. He'd given her hope that she could save her marriage before she'd realized that the man she'd married didn't exist, and he'd covered for her to Cooper. And he'd held her when she was vulnerable, she thought, again recalling the aftermath of Stewmaker incident. She took deep breaths.

He was, she realized belatedly, her best friend. Six months ago, if someone had told her that, she would have thought it insane. But here she was, asking the receptionist in the lobby for Ressler's apartment number.

She felt a flutter of nervousness when she knocked – how would he react to the fact that all this time, she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth? She felt another surge of nausea as she realized she'd done to him exactly what Tom and Reddington had done to her.

But she would come clean, she thought. The door opened. Ressler's eyebrows were raised, but he didn't look upset, just expectant. She might have smiled in different circumstances. He was going to get more of an explanation than he could imagine.

"I didn't know where else to go."

His expression softened, and he jerked his head, welcoming her inside, and in that moment she knew everything was going to be okay, come hell or high water, and that was the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Blacklist_ and I am not making any profit from this story. **

**Note: And here's Part II. I wrote this a while ago, so all I had to do was edit it. Back when I wrote this, I thought that the show didn't really do a spectacular job at showing us the fallout. I thought that Liz should have been way more upset at Reddington for killing her father (especially before she even had a chance to say goodbye to him in person), but by Season 2 it sort of seemed that the characters had been reset. Also, I wish the show writers would pay a little more attention to Ressler - but then again, don't we all? Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!**

 **...**

Don hadn't been expecting company – hell, he never expected company these days – so he was surprised to hear the knock on his door, and even more surprised to see Keen's face through the peephole. He swung the door open.

He hadn't always liked her, but he'd been her partner for a while now, and that meant he knew her pretty damn well. Her jaw was set, but even before she spoke, he could tell from her eyes that she was barely holding it together.

"I didn't know where else to go." Her voice was steady, but the words confirmed his initial impression. Sure, they were allies, friends, even, but things must be pretty bad if she was coming to him.

He stepped back and let her in. "What's going on?"

She turned to meet his gaze, but dropped it quickly. "It's a long story. And I'm sorry."

 _For what?_ He was pretty sure that she hadn't been this cryptic before spending so much time with Red. "Well, sit down, and tell me. Want a beer?"

She nodded and sat down, her shoulders hunched as she stared at the floor. He'd seen her like this a few times before; he was, he suspected, one of the handful of people who was allowed to see her on the verge of a breakdown.

He returned with a bottle for her, and sat on the other end of the couch, taking a sip of his own. She looked up at him. "You know about my problems with Tom. But the truth is, I didn't tell you the half of it. I should have, and I'm sorry for not trusting you enough."

Still confused, wondering what the hell could be so complicated about problems with the husband, he said, "It's fine, it's not like I've told you my life story. Tell me."

She told him, about the disappearance and murder of Jolene Parker, about the real reasons why she'd skipped so much work lately, about who Tom really was, and about her recent fistfight with him. He had to admit he was surprised.

"Reddington told me to keep it a secret," she continued. "From Tom, from everyone. But after today, I couldn't pretend anymore."

She waited with her gaze on him, probably waiting for a reaction while he processed it. The seconds dragged on. Now that he thought about it, he didn't have too much trouble believing Tom Keen was a spy, but still. "I don't blame you," he managed. "I don't know if I could've kept that secret for a day."

"I – I had to let him touch me," she said in a half-whisper, and for the first time he could hear her voice shaking. She looked at the ceiling. "I had to have sex with him. So he wouldn't suspect."

Don didn't know what to say to that. He didn't think there was anything he could say to that, because that was one of the most messed-up things he'd ever heard. "I'm sorry."

She was breathing hard now, and her eyes were unfocused. "Liz?" he asked.

She shook herself and bit her bottom lip. As hesitantly and as gently as if she were an injured animal, he put a hand on her shoulder. Don wished he could go back and change the past, wished he'd somehow known earlier so he could have offered to keep her at work 24/7 so she wouldn't have to go home, or _something_. He said the only thing he could think of, the only thing that was partly in his control. "He won't touch you again, Liz."

Her breathing slowed down and she looked at him gratefully. Assured that she was feeling momentarily better and not wanting to overstep any boundaries, he began pulling his hand back. She reached up her own hand, though, to cover his, so he kept his hand on her shoulder as a simple offer of support and friendship, so that she would know he had her back.

He felt his blood boil as he looked at her, hated the people who had brought this on her and forced her to her knees. It wasn't only Tom, although Don had no doubt he would fill Tom with bullets if he ever saw him again. It was Reddington, too. Don had never loathed the arch-criminal more for what he'd put her through, what with encouraging her to keep it a secret and live a lie instead of doing something. Don knew that he himself had nothing to do with the issue, but it felt personal. It was unbelievable how the man could claim to care about her while making her suffer.

It was awful that this had happened to anyone, of course, but that it had happened to Liz Keen made it personal. She was his partner and his best friend and he should've protected her from this somehow, should've noticed that something was wrong.

"And it wasn't just Tom," she said, taking deep, controlled breaths. "Reddington murdered my father. He wanted – he wanted to tell me something that Reddington didn't want me to know. And I confronted Reddington and do you know what he said, Ressler?"

Don shook his head, trying to make sense of what she was telling him.

"He said 'I put him out of his misery.'" Her voice broke on the last word, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

Don gently pulled her closer, as he'd done once before, and soon she was clutching the fabric of his shirt and crying against his shoulder. He could do nothing but hold her and smooth her hair, and the anger bubbled inside him.

That bastard Reddington would pay, he vowed. Liz would probably refuse to speak with him again, which would mean the end of the task force and the end of the immunity agreement. Don wouldn't let Reddington escape justice again. It wasn't only because of Liz and how Red had hurt her. Reddington was a criminal, a killer who had hurt a lot of people, and that couldn't be ignored forever.

Don turned his attention back to his trembling partner. In just a few days, her life had been ruined. Her marriage was a lie. She was her husband's target. And Reddington, who Don knew had wormed his way into her trust, had killed her father. He understood – not the exact circumstances, but the general feeling was pretty familiar. He remembered the moment, months ago, when he'd realized that everyone he'd cared about in his life from before Red was dead and gone. He'd told Liz so, he recalled. Mako Tanida's head in his freezer hadn't made anything better. What had made things bearable was eventually remembering that Liz was his friend and that she cared. Now, he knew, she was realizing that she still had him.

He wasn't much, Don admitted, as all his failings came to mind, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be there when she needed him.


End file.
